Nonchalance
by bare-footed-muse
Summary: Over the years, It was only ever nonchalance they saw. A collection of one-shots, leading up to the end. Each chapter started with a sort of reflection by our lovely Merlin. Centered around Merlin's empty love and yes, it's slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Ooh, my first longer fic :S**

Saying it now: this is slash. From afar. If you don't like it, you probably shouldn't read it.

This is an over-the-years kind of story, looking at some snapshot times they might have had: Arthur, in love! Sword practice, weddings, Christmas, kids, confessions, conversions, battles: won and lost. Centered around Merlin's empty love for Arthur. Each chapter'll start with a kind of reflection by our own lovely Merlin... enjoy. Please read & review. Thankyou :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I just entertain fantasies that I do.  
  
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**~Nonchalance~**

It was one of those days- any one of those days, they were all but a blur- when the sun was frosted in the sky by the freezing air, Merlin knew. It was something he'd never thought of; never even considered- it was ungodly. Later, he realised he'd never been too sure of God in the first place, and that this was something so much more than any old divine law.

His breath caught in his throat and something not unfamiliar rose to his cheeks, to his throat, to his heart and to the sudden light in his eyes. It was difficult to look at him, the light was so bright. Merlin questioned his own sanity- how could he never have noticed?

And so it was. Everyday was sunlit, despite the cloud's best attempts. Everyday was worth every moment, everyday perfectly liveable. Everyday Merlin's chest felt as though it would break its own ribs, his heart swelled so, as his friend, the best friend he would ever have, greeted him. He never minded his darker moods, his snaps or jibes. He just smiled. He knew every word was from the other half of his soul.

He knew then he had been lost, not knowing till he was found.

***

"Merlin?"

"Mmm?"

"I have… a question."

A moment's pause. An eyebrow raised.

"Well don't blurt it all out at once."

More uncomfortable than he had ever seen him, Merlin wondered at his new expression. It was glorious.

"Well… I have for sometime… been thinking."

"Brilliant. My workload has been halved."

Without even a scowl, Arthur continued.

It must be serious.

"There is a matter that has come to my attention… concerning… certain… _emotions_,"

Merlin never allowed thoughts of hope: they were never to come, so they never crossed his mind.

"Continue."

He cleared his throat.

"Guinevere… is, well… a _woman_."

He'd noticed. Hallelujah.

"As is Morgana."

"You've known that for a while." Merlin pointed out.

"Yes, well, you see…" His voice became rather gruff. " I've noticed… Guinevere's _behaviour_ around, err, you, Merlin, and…"

Merlin could not contain the laughter shaking through him now.

"Why are you_ laughing_?" Demanded Arthur, affronted and embarrassed.

"You…" He choked through his hysteria, "are asking… my… _permission_… to like… Gwen?"

Arthur shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance, as the blush in his cheeks reddened every moment.

"Arthur," said Merlin, very seriously grinning. "I must tell you now, I am not in any way attracted to either Gwen _or_ Morgana. You may take your pick." His eyes twinkled with amusement. How uncertain his friend was. How proud to disguise it. It was endearing.

"Well that's all that straightened out, then," Self-consciously mussing his hair, he hurried from the room, muttering about swords and horses.

His smile shrank and his eyes grew ancient. "There's always a third option, you know," Merlin sighed to the empty room. He almost felt it whispered back.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's chapter two.  
****  
I need to say, thank you, thank you, _thank you_ to all my reviewers and those of you have me on story alert and even one who has fav'd this :) It means a lot *hands over every single cookie. Goes to bake more.***

This is a pretty fluffy chapter- with all four of them in. Read, review, enjoy :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. It's wistful thinking.**

**  
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Two.

The years passed. Years of laughter, years of joy. Years of anything but solitude, his heart always aglow when all his self was together. It was enough, he knew, just to be there, as his closest friend, for all the moments too fleeting to know well enough before they were gone.

The sunlight haloed the golden hair, the sky in his eyes just merged with that of the heavens in those times beneath the forever, together. Merlin knew, whatever his flaws, he was more than an angel. He was _his _angel.

The times he could have spoken about the only thing they never had, he never took. Love could be from afar, he decided. To be included in one's glow, if not the whole reason for it, was something not everyone can feel. He needed him, and him needed he. If not for entirely the same reasons.

***

"Aaarrrthur?"

"Morgana, I have told you, I am _trying_ to concentrate."

"Same here," chipped in Merlin.

Morgana's smug half-smile said it all.

Gwen bit her lip against the giggles.

"Aarrrthur?"

"Morgana!!" Spinning round to face her, his hands almost at his hips, Merlin seized his chance and lunged at Arthur with his sword. (A wooden one, of course- His proficiency at sword fighting had seen no improvement, despite the other's endless attempts to correct it.)

Sent staggering to the left, Arthur tripped on Gwen's conveniently placed foot and went sprawling to the ground.

There was a moment, then peals of laughter, led by Morgana, and slightly hollow from Merlin, due to the oversized helmet perched upon his head.

Sitting up, seemingly speechless for a moment, Arthur's outraged face sent them into further gales of mirth.

He growled, unable to locate the sword- hidden behind Gwen's back- and launched himself at Merlin's legs.

They both collapsed into a rolling, happy heap of arms, legs and Merlin's helmet.

Merlin would never admit just how happy it made him to be in Arthur's arms, albeit it as the result of a rather painful rugby tackle.

Grabbing a nearby stick in place of his sword, Arthur pointed it first at the offending dark-haired boy before him, and then at the two laughing woman, sprawled at the roots of the towering oak tree above them.

"Is that any way to treat your future king?"

"I do hope, _noble _Prince Arthur, your skill at recognising a clever scheme improves before that day comes," commented Morgana, smiling mockingly. "Camelot shall surely fall to ruin if you can be outwitted by us."

Arthur let that one pass. "I'm sure."

The sky seemed to never end and the four friends thought of nothing but the here and the now. Everything was possible, any pain lost to the winds, as they sat on that hilltop in the shade of the great oak tree.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three :)**

Once again, thank you so much to every one who's reviewed. 'Tis pure love :D

Some male bonding for you in this chapter... and some magic :D  
Cookies to anyone who can translate the spells?  
Read, review, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Yet.

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**_Three._**

Sometimes, he caught sight of them both, in the castle windows, the lake, the mirror sky, and it was as though that reflection inverted them: Merlin knew in those held moments that his Arthur was so much more him than he could ever be. So it was that every time there was a new plane, a new _plain_ of his Arthur discovered, he could not help but marvel at how in himself, he held its opposite.

Each time he was there to catch the to-be King as he fell, to be his own personal mirror on the wall; it was another explosion of violets inside of him and he could hardly stop himself from betraying by some tiny gesture how the fissure in his heart tried to tear. How he treasured those moments. How he dusted them off, every so often, before they were once more folded and locked away. But it didn't matter. No, the hiding never mattered.

***

_Crash._

Merlin pulled the pillow tighter over his ears.

_Crash._

How could Gaius still be sleeping? Was it only loud to him?

_Crash._

Was this his ears making it louder? It was one thing to have better hearing, but to amplify a sound to this degree-

_Crash._

"Argh!"

The wild animal of the wind tore at the window frame. Lightning gashed the sky. Rain slammed against every wall in its fight against the tormented clouds. The thunder snarled its anguish to every ear under the blackened firmament.

Merlin cringed as he heard the old castle stones grind and groan under the assault.

"_Bierg, faestnunge, bordrand Camelot burg_," he muttered anxiously. His eyes burned for a moment and a shiver of a sigh ran through the walls of the castle.

All the same…

Maybe some extra protection around Arthur's room wouldn't be such a bad thing. This was one hell of a storm.

Merlin edged as close to the rattling window as he dared and peered into the town below. They were very vulnerable too.

"_Bierg, faestnunge, bordrand Camelot earda_."

And Gwen's home.

"_Fyrore bierg, faestnunge, bordrand drute Guinevere earda_."

Maybe Gaius quarters too.

"_Fyrore bierg, faestnunge, bordrand wines Gaius earda_."

And also-

No! He couldn't give extra protection to everyone he knew. It was just a storm. Just a little storm.

Well, a rather large storm.

Grabbing his jacket from the general detritus of his room, Merlin crept past the still peacefully prone figure of Gaius and out onto the freezing staircase.

It was worse out here. There was no glass in any of the windows and the wind was like a screaming whip down the corridor. Barefoot- "Stupid idiot!" Merlin cursed himself as his toes steadily froze- he ran like a man on freezing coals towards Arthur's conveniently located chambers on the other side of the castle.

"Bloody- freezing- nora!! Ah-aa-aargh!" He hissed, tumbling into Arthur's room clutching at his frozen toes. "_Cold!!"_ A snarl of thunder almost drowned out his words as he cried, "Even my ears are _freezing!!"_

"Merlin?" With a comically alarmed face, Merlin's head snapped up- standing on one leg, a hand on an ear, the other still holding a foot- to see Arthur's blonde head peering out from his covers.

Arthur was curled into a tight ball in the centre of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest, surrounded by his richly woven blankets. His face was uncharacteristically white.

"Arthur," Merlin dropped his foot. And his ear. "I- I was just coming to make sure you were comfortable, what with the weather and I, er-"

"Stay," Reaching out, he grabbed Merlin's sleeve, dragging him onto the bed. "stay here."

"Of- of course…"

There was another screaming roar of thunder and Merlin swore he felt Arthur quake.

"Arthur- are you alright?"

"Of course I'm fine, Merlin. Don't be such an idiot," With a violent flash of lightning, he trembled, pulling Merlin closer.

Merlin banished the erratic thumping of his heart with self-promises that it was just for fear of the raging storm.

"I hate thunder," Arthur whispered over the howl of the wind. "I hate thunder."

Without hesitation Merlin wrapped his long arms around Arthur's shaking body.

"If you'll excuse my- what was it you called it?- my being a girl, sire."

"Don't be such a girl Merlin."

He grinned. And neither of them moved.

Maybe moments, or hours, or mere minutes later a horrendous cracking groan echoed from the direction of the west tower.

_'Bierg, faestnunge, bordrand Camelot burg'- oh dear._

_That should have been burg**stedes**._

_Ah._

There was a terrible resounding explosion of water as something large and stone tumbled into the moat.

Brow furrowed, Merlin tightened his arms around Arthur's now sleeping form and tried to form the spell to strengthen the charm around the room.

"Bierg, faestnunge, bordrand-"

He could not find the right word for Arthur.

_Fréawine, fréond, drút, sundorwine, winedryhten, eaxlgestealla._

As the storm blew itself out, Merlin simply prayed the walls would hold.

For Arthur.

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**Has anyone read 'Ecclesiastes' by ****Aurore Verlaine? It's amazing, and if you like this story, you'll like theirs :)  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter four!**

**I never expected such a good reception of this story. Thankyou,_ thankyou _all of you.**

**A note on Gwen's second name- I know it's kind of... odd, but in some of the legends (thankyou wikipedia) Gwen was the daughter of King Leodegrance. She's not royalty, but hey, Arthurian trivia is great :)  
****More fluffy goodness here, but there'll be angst in the next chapter. Promise.**

**Read, review, enjoy guys.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. But I can dream.**

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**_  
Four._**

There were so many celebrations: so many drunken nights he could have chosen. Fear, loyalty and resignation only held him back- fear at rejection, loyalty to Guinevere and the knowledge that his destiny was to help others, not himself. No, Merlin never took anything for himself.

That celebration of confetti, dancing and many, many, many sleepless nights was the one where he just accepted it- to look, to long, and to never, ever breathe a word, for that was the way it was. The way it must be. He never resented his choices, the fact that he lived without love. For the smile on His face, on Her face, on that celebration night was all he needed to carry him through.

***

"…and do you, Prince Arthur William Pendragon, take Guinevere Leodegrance, to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do."

"And do you, Guinevere Leodegrance, take Prince Arthur William…"

There were tears in Morgana's eyes: Merlin could see them sparkling from his place beside Arthur. He brushed some stray petals from his hair as he smiled.

"…in sickness, and in health…"

Of course, the entire city had turned up to watch the marriage of their almost-king. They were crammed outside the open doors of the church, beatific smiles on every one of their faces.

"…Then I declare you man and wife."

The tumultuous applause, the screams and the shouts, Morgana's sobs still audible above it all, Merlin looked on as they kissed. The pang of his heart had long since learned to fade. He clapped his hands- sincerely- and hugged them both. Arthur's slightly bemused grin as he gazed down at the woman beside him was glorious.

Giving Gwen a quick kiss on her forehead, Merlin had just opened his mouth to speak when they were all attacked by a whirl of blue chiffon, silk and streaming eyes.

"Morgana!" Arthur griped. "Pull yourself together, woman." But he was smiling like the sun.

Morgana was completely incoherent as she seized Gwen and Arthur tightly around their necks in the biggest bear hug Merlin had ever seen.

"Um… guards?" Arthur just choked out.

Morgana having been lead to an antechamber to calm down, the largest party held for many years began- wine flowed and laughter bubbled to the high ceiling.

"You know the whole town's celebrating?" Merlin remarked, peering through a window.

"I know," Gwen sounded slightly punch-drunk. "I can't believe it."

"You will."

"Gwen!" A blonde head bobbed into view, accompanied by many slaps on the back. "We've got to start the dancing."

"Oh!" Her eyes grew very round. "_Now_?"

"Yes now!" Hands entwined, the blonde haired boy and the white dress moved through the crowd like a ship at sea on their people.

The music began and Merlin swayed. He hummed the familiar tune he'd been practicing to with Arthur all week.

"_Now don't tread on her feet, that's important."_

"_I'm not going to."_

"_You're treading on mine."_

"_That's different."  
_

Guinevere twirled gracefully- how versatile that girl was: chopping wood, sword making, to spinning like a ballerina- and Merlin shut his eyes. He was back in Arthur's chamber, playing Gwen, as always-

"Merlin?"

Jumping, he saw himself reflected in Morgana's now dry eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"You know me, I'm always all right. What about you?"

Morgana laughed. "You know me Merlin, I'm always all right." She smiled at the two dancers for a moment. "I'm just so happy for Gwen!"

Merlin patted her awkwardly on the back. He really didn't want a repeat of earlier, even if they had been tears of joy. "Me too." He did mean it.

Most of the hall was twirling now, a feast of merging colour and movement.

"Dance with me?"

"What?"

"Come on Merlin, I can't possibly leave you here alone."

"Morgana, seriously…"

"I'm insisting, Merlin. Now dance."

Merlin was all knees and elbows and felt distinctly uncoordinated as he was dragged to the dance floor and began to- well, Morgana began to- glide. Next to her, he felt like a stork trying to waltz.

"So? Any predictions for the happy couple?" Morgana asked, completely at ease with the spinning room.

He gazed at her shrewdly- or would have done if his feet weren't taking up his entire attention. "Err... Gwen lost among Arthur's mistresses by the end of the year?"

Morgana hit his arm- how did the woman not lose her stride? - playfully.

"I'm serious."

"No you're not," she smiled. "You know as well as I do Arthur's smitten. He loves her!"

Merlin's smile was just slightly rueful.

"I know. I know."

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Helloo!  
****  
Reviewers: you guys rock. So much. It's almost impossible to describe the warm fluffy feeling you get when an email says '[review alert!]'. **

**As promised, a helping of angst in this chapter. :) I should probably apologise for having not a lot of Uther in the story so far- this is his one moment of glory.  
By the way- any critical reviews of this first section would be much appreciated. I'm thinking of changing the context of it to use the phrases as song lyrics, so feedback= goodness.**

**As ever, read, review, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer. I don't own Merlin. Or so you think.**

**  
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**_Five._**

There were times, of course, when his sealed heart began to split. To save them all, he just ran. The woods were always a shelter, a haven where there were no sounds of anything but rustling life: sometimes he felt eyes upon him, trees murmuring they knew him as he merged and grew with the ancient boughs. Convoluted ivy wound its way over the gnarled groaning trees, choking and twisting them with its bitter envy; Merlin's stifled heart sympathised. He was nothing but magic under the dappled light and the forest lived his pain as it whispered ancient words of solace to him.

When startled faces were glimpsed through the trees, Merlin ran. The tales that spread through the real world that seemed so far away when he was the Man of the Woods amused him.

The rain would always end when he was lost in the trees.

***

The city stood in silence, in black.

In mourning.

Arthur's grief had infected them all, and no one dared breathe until the day finally died.

"Arthur…"

"Father." Arthur gripped his father's hand tighter, a gesture the others pretended not to see.

"Don't… don't…"

Gwen's pain was only Arthur's pain: Merlin remembered so long ago when she had confessed to him Uther's death would be nothing to her.

"_If you had the power of life and death over Uther, would you kill him?"_

"_No. Never. That would make me as bad as him."_

Looking upon him now, it was hard to believe what he had done.

Not that his death was unexpected. For three years the sickness had slowly been weakening Uther, his bed becoming his near constant companion and his duties falling prematurely on Arthur. He'd missed Arthur becoming Arthur, Merlin reflected wryly. Even the wedding had been a secret from him.

"Don't… lose them."

"Who?"

Uther raised a feeble hand- an echo of charging armies seemed to ring through the room-, which Arthur grasped and gently lowered.

"Any of them. Your friends."

The room was empty but for Merlin, Gwen, Morgana, the crouching prince and the dying king. Merlin was touched that Uther realised he and Gwen were not there merely to pass hankies to the others.

"I won't, father. I promise."

"You can't… be alone."

"Father… father…"

"You must be careful. For Camelot. Morgana…"

"I'm here."

Morgana was surprisingly tearless. Her proud face only falling when no one was looking and certainly not when Arthur could see.

"I'll miss you."

"And I you." She smiled. "Who shall I argue with now?"

"I'm sure Arthur will be more than a good substitute, my child."

She took his other trembling hand. The light pouring through the windows was ironic as it illuminated every tear on Arthur's face. Merlin's quiet heart cried out. Magic shivered through his fingers and the persistent tears were brushed away.

Uther looked at Arthur.

"Good luck, my son."

"_You mean more to me the this whole kingdom, and certainly more than my own life."_

"_I always thought I was a big disappointment to you."_

It was silent when the light left Uther Pendragon's eyes.

Arthur's tears couldn't be stopped then. Like a fracture in a reinforced dam that never broke.

Gwen held him to her, and Morgana… Morgana was still, her face detached as she slid Uther's lids over his empty eyes.

***


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello readers :)**

**Thanks for all your feedback. You guys light up my little writer's world :P *worships***

**Here's chapter six- bit longer than usual I'm afraid. I was considering expanding and turning it into a fic of it's own, but, _smeh_.  
It's christmas time. There's snow. Need I say more?**

**This fic'll probably end up at about 12 chapters... and I'll apologise _now_ if next week's update is a bit late. Exams are looming and my head is _this_ close to exploding.**

**  
Read, review, enjoy :)**

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Six.

The changing seasons were like a complement to how, no matter how hard they would try, their innocence of youth could never last. Ever-changing, never resting- there was never enough time to do everything they should do: there never would be. It was something that was simply accepted. The changing seasons had so many differences of days, rain from the stars to drench him in memories long ago rested, cold, cold wind to spike him awake again. Clouds to shadow his sun, the bite of frost for edges to every feeling.

The Springs of yawning, waking eyes, renewed declarations. Merlin's resolution was the same each year: never think. Summers of balmy to blistering freedom. Now tied as they were with responsibility and power, the sun-losing showers came more often. But never all the time. And the Autumns: fading light but stoked-up fires, evenings of release and long into the late night conversations. Never forgotting what was lost, they fed their nostalgia with conversation with the other.

And then there were the Winters. And the caress of snow. And, just sometimes, days of laughing innocence again.

***

Merlin couldn't quite believe his eyes. He blinked very slowly, testing whether he was still asleep. A smile blossomed on his face.

Grabbing his jacket, he leapt from his room and through the physician's quarters.

"You're up early!"

Merlin turned his ridiculous grin to Gaius.

"Snow."

"Ah."

He bounced through the castle- greeting all the slightly startled townsfolk along the way with a "_Good morning!_"- to Arthur's new quarters and without knocking, bounded in.

"Good morning!"

"It _was_."

Being greeted by Arthur's sleep befuddled, irritated head was something he'd grown used to. He smiled even wider.

"Hi Gwen."

"Hello." Unsurprisingly, Gwen was already up and dressed. "Have you seen the weather?"

Merlin's features were in danger of disappearing inside his vast smile.

"What? What is it?"

"Well, if you were to perhaps consider getting out of bed, you could see," He paused.

"Only, of course, if it pleases your majesty." Merlin added, sinking into a very sarcastic bow.

Arthur growled.

"Happy Christmas, by the way."

The snow's sparkle not even rivalling that in Merlin's eye, he tossed a hastily wrapped package at the bed. Merlin's aim being Merlin's aim, however, it missed and bounced of Arthur's irritable morning face. ("OW!" complained Arthur. "What's IN here?") Merlin took Gwen's arm and balanced the teetering pile of carefully wrapped presents against his chest.

"Shall we?"

Giggling, Gwen led the way out the door.

"Bloody manservant, barging in at God knows how early in the morning… commandeering my wife… throwing bloody parcels at my head…" He looked around. "And _then _leaving me to get dressed!" The present's garish wrapping beamed up at him. Arthur tore it off in retaliation before his eyes grew very large.

"You _are_ joking me."

"So, Guinevere, tell me, how are you finding royal life?" Merlin twinkled at her.

"Well…" She looked around furtively.

"What?" Merlin's face creased into a curious half smile.

"Arthur… Do you remember that thunderstorm last year? The one that took down the west tower? Well… it's like that! Arthur… Arthur _snores_!"

At that, Merlin exploded into laughter. "The hypocrite!!"

"I don't mean I can't stand it or anything, of course I don't mean anything like that, I just mean it's a little-"

"Oh Gwen," Merlin chortled. "You're too nice."

She reddened.

"Here," He knocked on the door before them.

"Merry Christmas!" They chorused to a laughing Morgana.

"Presents," Gwen smiled. Merlin held her arm to stop her automatically curtsying.

"Thank you," Morgana took the parcels and handed over her own. "Same to you!"

"… So you gave presents to all your old neighbours, Morgana, Gaius, Merlin-" he cast his manservant a dark look- "most of the servants, me, the laundry lady, and Lancelot and you managed to spend absolutely nothing at all?" Arthur looked at Guineviere incredulously. "You astound me."

"I always used to make presents for all of them. I don't really see why that should change." She took another slice of the turkey.

He shook his head. "But... Merlin? After _this_?" He gestured at his head.

"It honestly doesn't look that bad."

"He's vandalised my crown!"

Undeniably, the large feathers now welded to the back of his crown did somehow say _revenge._

Gwen giggled.

Later, When Arthur returned to his room, slightly wine soddened and full to bursting with Christmas feast, Merlin was stood there, Arthur's riding cloak over one arm.

"What now?"

Merlin grinned his grin.

"Just a trip in the snow sire."

"But it's a bloody blizzard out there!"

Although this was a slight exaggeration, Arthur grumbled the entire time as they rode through the snow-kissed trees and perfect frosted lanes to the lake. Each falling snowflake was like a copy of the huge rising moon framed in the grey sky.

"Here we are."

Merlin dismounted and led the still-complaining Arthur to the edge of a familiar lake.

The snowflakes clung delicately to his dark hair and to eyelashes. One landed on the end of his nose. As he went cross-eyed watching it, Arthur impatiently said,

"Merlin. Do you plan to show me anything other than the extent of your intellect?"

"Oh, hang on a minute…" He turned to him. "I need you to promise me something."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I promise I will leave if you delay any longer."

"Promise me you won't do anything… aggressive."

"You feeling all right?" Arthur's brow furrowed. Merlin forced himself not to simply stare at the tiny crease in the skin between Arthur's eyebrows.

"I'm always fine. Now," He looked so uncertain. "You ready?" Without waiting for an answer, he walked to the water's edge and cried, "My Lady!"

Horror-struck, Arthur watched.

A sword- a beautiful sword- rose from the seamless body of water. Half-obscured by the gentle snow, he could just make out runic carvings hollowed above the hilt. It was clasped in a pale hand, paler than Merlin, paler than the dusky moon impassively observing the scene.

"Merlin…" He was unsure whether his voice had come out as a whisper or a cry of betrayal.

"Thank you," Merlin reached for it with a moonlit hand. "Hello," he murmured to it. "How are you?"

Arthur cleared his throat. In a voice of decided calm he said, "Tell me, Merlin, are you on close terms with that sword?"

"Oh yes," He smiled roguishly, and walking back towards Arthur, he held out the offending sword. "The lady and I wish you a very happy Christmas."

***

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**AN. This is set quite soon after the previous chapter... a couple of months (ish)  
AN#2. Just in case anyone's unsure, the vandalised crown was Arthur's original present from Merlin. (my friend was all confused when she read it at first :P)  
-barefootxxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**Helloo all!**

Okay, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist a cliffhanger here. :O  
You'll find out what happens in next week's update. Honest.  
**  
808 hits ! :O You guys are the best. But please, reviews are nothing but love, even if it's just a word or two. Thanks :D**

Bit of a warning- mild innuendo in this chapter. If you have a mind that works like that ! :P

Read, review, enjoy. *bear hugs to all*

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_**Seven.**_

So many things were inevitable, things that could never just pass: fractures to be avoided at all costs. Secrets chimed out more and more often, clamouring to be told, discordant notes to a crescendo of truth- truth that could never be absolutely absolute. Sometimes he felt that his greatest secret was a villain. An internal war of blazing heartache: a thousand natural shocks that he could never be certain were neutralised by the sunlight illuminating every once-darkened corner of himself.

Emotions were like ships: all cast off in ceremony, some were doomed voyages and some would reach the new shores. All would experience rough waters on their long, long journey.

But life was everything that was reasonable to imagine.

And all other secrets would have their time- the keys to their locks not yet thrown away, just hanging dusty on his to-do list. Merlin simply hoped the confessional silence would say it all.

***

Merlin felt as if his eyelids were lined with lead.

"…and so then, I said to him, Sir Gawain, you can't just wave your sword about willy-nilly and expect women to fall to the ground in awe," Arthur waved his hand around to illustrate his point. He took another sip of wine and continued. "It's all in the presentation. If you learn a few little tricks, like I have-" He twirled an imaginary sword with a few dextrous twists of his wrist "-then it's a different story altogether. But mind you-"

Merlin may have snored.

Maybe.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Have you even listened to a word I've said?"

"What-? Yes. Yes I have." Merlin sat up a little straighter in the sagging leather armchair. "You have an imaginary sword. Ouch!"

Rubbing his now throbbing shin, he glared at Arthur. "In my defence, I had a late night last night, polishing your armour, _sire_."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. If you spent as long thinking before you opened your mouth, perhaps you might actually use some respect whilst talking to me." But his tone was overbearingly affectionate.

"Yeah, well, you've stuck with it so far," He yawned and treated Arthur to his best charming grin, shadows flickering over his face from the roaring fire behind the grate. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

"You're not old yet!" Merlin started at the edge to Arthur's voice. "Look at your feminine beardless face." Clearing the air. Relaxing. Smirking, Arthur sunk back into his own armchair, stretching his bare feet towards the warmth of the fire. "Hold on- are you referring to yourself as a dog, Merlin?"

"Woof," Merlin replied sarcastically, kicking off his own shoes and trying to bump Arthur's feet out the way.

"Did you just kick the king's feet?"

"Perhaps."

Of course, the following foot war- epic as it was- was interrupted by distraction in the form of Morgana and Gwen.

"Play fighting, are we boys?"

"Well, I'm fighting. Merlin is putting up a weak defence."

"Aren't you a bit old for that?"

"We're not old yet!" Again, that little crack. "And what are you doing in here, anyway?"

"We thought we should tell you it's tomorrow morning." Gwen smiled, crossing her arms. Standing both in their finery, brooches, and cloaks, it was difficult to tell that one had only been what would be called noble for just over a year. Morgana had been simply delighted she could be friends with Gwen as an equal. If it was possible, they had grown closer over the last year, and seemed never to go anywhere without the other.

"It can't be tomorrow already!" Arthur's eyes grew very wide.

"Well, I'm going to bed," It could have been the firelight that flickered in Merlin's eyes as Gwen stroked Arthur's face. "Remember you've got the council meeting tomorrow- this morning." She smiled, kissing him briefly. Noses touching, they held each other's eyes for a moment, before Gwen pulled back and waved to the others, heading for the door at the end of the room that lead to the royal chamber. "Night."

"Goodnight."

Morgana looked as if she was barely containing a shining smile. "I'm off too. Goodnight." She pulled a face at Arthur and brushed the top of Merlin's head lightly as she left.

Merlin's face was wearing his nonchalance mask. Arthur's was smiling contentedly to himself.

"Arthur." Merlin said.

"Mmm?"

"I have… a question."

A moment's pause. An eyebrow raised.

"Well don't blurt it all out at once."

Like they were reading from a nostalgic script of that day so many years ago. They both smiled- before Merlin's face became a mask again. "Do you trust me?"

Arthur nodded, his brow knotting.

"I'm a sorcerer."

The silence.

The _silence_.

***


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi everyone.**

**Little angsty in this chapter- but I hope some light relief too.  
For all of you that hate Gwen- she's not in this chapter! *hears many cheers*  
Sorry it's a bit late in the day- writers block like _woah_. :)**

**read, review, enjoy.******

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**_Eight._**

You have to plan for the future.

Think ahead; consider time, think of the dominos falling steadily from every little knock of a choice. Once fallen, it can be so hard to pick them up again. So hard to stop them tumbling uncontrollably and flattening anything in their way.

Cause to effect: Merlin had stumbled over these so many times and every scene he had planned for could not prepare him for the possibilities of spontaneous decisions or their following ripostes. He never imagined running away- for to leave was to cease to exist. Halved- it was never possible to imagine continuing down lonely roads as just a fragment of what he should be.

The truth had been one of many ways to say goodbye, and grasping at empty theories of healing fractures was all he could do, knowing it was out of his power to save at least the scraps that remained.

Closing his eyes, he left it to trust.

***

"He lied to me."

"Yes, so you've said."

"He _lied_ to me."

"Yes, Arthur, I've got the gist."

"He lied to _me_!"

"Yes, Arthur!" Morgana's voice snapped. "I know!"

By the sound of it, Arthur had just kicked the table.

"It's been a week now, and you just-" she growled in exasperation- "_Men! _For God's sake, it's not healthy for either of you, you've never gone so long apart, the whole castle's heard your shouting, they're gossiping all kinds of nonsense, Merlin hasn't been seen in days, he's locked in his house, no one can get in, Gwen's almost _died_ of worry and _don't-_" Her last word was almost shouted in fury. "Tell me you don't care, Arthur Pendragon!!"

In the ringing silence, Merlin winced. He dared another glance through the strip of open door at them. The cracks in the space between them- the towering woman, a storm of dark hair framing her silent anger and the collapsed prince, crumpled with pride and confusion hunched by the window.

For a second he looked at her.

"I don't care."

"You're just like your father."

Could there be more venom in a few words than in the fangs of every snake in the world?

Yes, Merlin decided, there could, as he pummelled his chest as distraction from the pain and looked away from the scene.

He was huddled in an alcove behind a suit of armour just outside Arthur's chambers. His intention had been to look one last look at the prince before taking the napsack he'd already packed, say his goodbyes to Gaius and leave letters for Gwen and Morgana before-

Well, he'd convinced himself it wasn't running.

But circumstances had found him listening, instead.

Listening to what he already knew.

He cursed himself for still being here.

Just in time, he realised Morgana's quickened footsteps were heading out of the chamber.

"Morgana-" They stopped.

"No, Arthur."

"Morgana, I-"

He drew in a breath.

"It wasn't unexpected."

"_What?_"

Merlin's heart tripped over itself in shock.

"Morgana, do you think I have no intelligence at all?" Now it was out, he sounded slightly nauseated. "I just never put everything together in such a- in such a way. Why _him_, Morgana?"

"The one person you could never kill," She stated. "So it all comes down to this decision, doesn't it?"

"I don't know what to do."

He sounded like a lost boy.

"Yes you do."

"How can I just- throw away everything my father stood for, destroy it all, for the sake of myself?"

"_Yourself? _When a perfectly innocent man is at stake?"

The sliver of the room he could see showed him the Morgana's head was turned to the side, not looking away, but not looking toward Arthur. She was still stood, still, near the doorway. Arthur was just staring at her back with something in his eyes that was a split road. The light hitting Morgana's back from the window lit up her outline. She looked like a beacon.

"Arthur, there is only one choice. Regret, or what's right. Can you choose between them? They're black and white, Arthur!" She turned to face him, finally, and-

"Arthur! Your foot!"

"What?"

"How hard did you kick the table?!"

Arthur's foot had swollen twice its usual size. And the table leg had indeed splintered.

"Oh… ouch."

"I'll say."

The sound of three feet- two clad in sharp heels, the other bare and hopping- made for the door and Merlin shrank back into the safety of the shadows. He just heard; "What _is_ it with you and serious conversations?" as the pair rounded the corner towards Gaius's, and he slipped away in the opposite direction.

There was half a knock on the door.

A throat was cleared, and three loud knocks echoed through the quiet chamber.

"Hello?"

"Ah. Your majesty." Gaius opened the door fully. "Can I help? I trust you have not injured yourself again so soon?"

"No… not as such. Is- could I see Merlin?"

"You can try your luck, sire, but I am not sure how far you will get."

Nodding, a bandaged Arthur hopped through the door.

"How is your foot, sire?" Gaius inquired, helping Arthur manoeuvre past the cluttered workbench.

"Better. Are you sure there's no chance it will heal quicker?"

"Certain. Sire, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly are you planning on-"

"Don't worry, Gaius," He managed a smile, that may have been a grimace. "I have a plan."

And Gaius was left in his study, worry etched into his paper skin.

There was a knock on Merlin's bedroom door.

There was silence.

There was another, brisker knock.

There was silence.

"Er… can I come in?"

"Arthur." It wasn't quite a question, nor an exclamation.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Please?"

"Um… no."

"Merlin," Arthur shifted his weight onto his one good foot and slight impatience touched his voice. "That wasn't a question."

"An order?"

"Yes. I was polite enough to ask. Unlike some people." He turned the doorknob.

Merlin was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His bare feet poked over the end of the bed he was just too long to quite fit into and his arms were tucked behind his head, bony elbows sticking out either side like sides of a picture frame. He didn't look as if he'd moved in a while.

Arthur blinked twice.

"Um… hi."

"Hello."

There was a silence.

Merlin seemed to quake as he said, "Have you made a decision?"

"Yes."

"I see."

Arthur looked around Merlin's room.

"No wonder my chambers are always such a state. You can't even keep your own clean."

Silence. Arthur twisted his mouth.

"Merlin. I have made a decision. Quite recently. And it is that, well, you, are, well, it is that I am not my father. I'll never live up to what he expected of me. And also that, err, if, you see, I truly respect the laws laid down by my forbears then I should respect their mistakes. And learn from them."

There was a pause.

"I'm lifting the ban on magic tomorrow."

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looked at him. His eyes shone.

"And I would be greatly… pleased if you would… consent to- forgive me." He looked determinedly at the space just above Merlin's head. "And I thought you might like this." He held out to him what was, unmistakably, supposed to be a magic wand.

Just for a second, they did nothing. Then Merlin grinned the grin Arthur- though he would never admit it- had missed so much.

Sitting up, Merlin took the wand from Arthur's outstretched hand.

"You know this is completely useless?" he said.

"Well… it was … a gesture."

Merlin held out a hand and with a few whispered words, Arthur felt his foot return to its normal size and shape.

"You… but…" He snatched his foot from the floor and examined it closely. "Well- I- I suppose that is one of the benefits." He paused awkwardly. "I may take a while to get used to this."

Merlin twiddled the wand nonchalantly. "I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone :)**

**hope you enjoyed last week's conclusion to the whole magic-shmazzle situation. Thanks to you guys who reviewed! They'll be a few more fluffy one-shots, and just because I enjoyed keeping you all hanging, the concluding chapters will be continuous and probably contain cliffhangers... yes, I am _so_ sadistic :D**

**If you're enjoying this story, PLEASE go to my profile page and take the poll on how you want it to end: I haven't written the conclusion yet, so all the votes will effect my decision!**

**Sorry this chapter's a bit short... read, review, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. It's wistful thinking.**

**

* * *

**

_**Nine.**_

In a time where his subjects celebrated beginnings and successes, their king mourned when backs were turned. In between were the buds of the new, growing slowly, before blooming for all to see and illuminating even their architect's dark brooding moments.

Merlin sometimes still felt jealousy- what could this wide-eyed world-virgin bring that he could not? But such thoughts were pummelled and locked back away in the growing skeleton closet of his mind. His own emotions- of all kinds- he decided, were his own fault. And because when Merlin really looked into her replicated little eyes all he saw was _him_ and _her_. Together- and that was exactly what he had chosen for them. Forever.

And the seams in his patchwork heart tore a little more.

***

The mantra of agitated footsteps ticked like the clock.

"Arthur."

They paused. "What?" He snapped.

"_Stop_."

Arthur thumped into the stone chair next to him. Merlin considered hitting him when Arthur's foot started tapping in exactly the same rhythm as his feet had.

"Arthur!"

His own fingers, however, drummed on the side of his chair.

"She will be fine. Morgana is just as capable as I am," If only that were true.

"I _know_!"

"I mean, we would know if anything had gone wrong and I'm sure they would call me in if they needed my help-"

"I _know_!"

"- So there is no way anything can possibly go wrong then. It could always take this long; you and me don't know anything about this, do we? And-"

"Merlin, shut up!"

They receded into a strained silence again, tense with listening. Merlin peered out the window at the sun. How could it have been only half an hour since he lasted checked?

"I'm going in," Arthur declared, standing up suddenly and striding to the door at the end of the corridor.

"Arthur, no, not a good idea-"

Merlin hurried in front of him, babbling about trauma and his mental scarring.

"Merlin, let me _through_-"

"Sire, Arthur, really _no-_"

"Get off me-"

"Let go-"

"OUCH!"

"You-"

A door banged open at the end of the corridor and the scuffling pair looked up from their two-way headlock. "Get in here!"

Morgana stood there, looking very tired and her hair falling in dark wisps out of her plait. Her green dress was stained and her eyes were exhausted, but she looked strangely triumphant.

"It's a girl."

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**Take the poll, take the poll, take the poll...  
:)**


	10. Interlude

**This is _not_ this weeks chapter.**

**This is an interlude- like the chapter starts in the normal chaps, but from Morgana's POV. It's a glimpse of what's to come: we're leading up to the climax and ending of the story soon...  
Chapter TEN will be posted later tonight or tomorrow!!  
Read, review enjoy. There will be more.**__

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_**Interlude**_

There were many things Morgana understood. She understood the way Merlin looked at little Ygraine, the child now just two years old. She understood the way the people applauded as Arthur showed mercy. She understood why it was not she who was Sorcerer of the Court.

She didn't understand the sickening jealous spite it all nurtured within her.

That terrified her.

No one came running when she woke up screaming in the night anymore: it was simply routine, habit. The castle inhabitants and walls had long learnt to sleep through the edged screams that echoed through the halls every night.

Everyone knew Morgana had bad dreams.

No one knew just how bad they were.

So in the night, when she clutched at her chest, at her hair, at her cheeks and the liquid fear rolling from her eyes and gasped in whispered terror because of the creature of blood and hate and rage that rose within her, no one knew.

There was something stirring within Morgana.

Something animalistic and savage.

Something twisted.

She muffled her scream against her pillows.

***


	11. Chapter 10

**Sorry, such a late post :S It was my birthday, and this chapter is excesively long... what the hell. I have no excuse... *grovels***

**This is your very last even slightly fluffy chapter, I'm afraid. I've tied up quite a lot of loose ends here- hence the length- and it's sort of setting things in motion... hopefully all will become clear!!**

**Just quickly, I'd like to say a special thanks to xxDibDabxx, who's stcuk with this story right from the start, gives amazing reviews every time and is quite simply awesomely amazing :D So HUGE hugs and cookies to you. Thank you !! :D**

**Read, review, enjoy. (and anticipate the multi-chap ending! :O )**

_**xxx**_

_**Ten.**_

Revelry is sometimes such a contradictory thing: celebrating the passing of time, growing older, weaker, and not always wiser. Years piling on, like loads into saddlebags and still, increasingly bitter, merriment was insisted upon. This was Arthur's own bête-noir.

Merlin, however, couldn't help but somewhat welcome the ebb of youth and the steps closer to the end. Each time a shadow passed over his Arthur's face- at the mere mention of the shrinking years- he couldn't help but shudder. He couldn't help but fear losing time together, but welcome the approaching oblivion all the same.

Ageing was just another change, and heaven knows he'd accepted so many of those. Age did not, as he had dared to dare to hope, crumble his quietened feelings. He felt no meagre apathy for any and every tiny motion or flaw of his Arthur. It was the one thing that would never change.

The northern star, so far from any kind of extinguishment.

***

Merlin had insisted. No party. No feast. No, no they could not hold a festival.

Merlin had _told_ them he didn't want any fuss: Arthur always got depressed at anyone's birthday if they were over the age of 35.

And so, on the eve of his birthday, the court magician was sitting alone in a corner of a small dingy pub on the outskirts of Camelot with a tankard in his hand.

He stared sorrowfully at the last dregs of ale swirling at the bottom of the glass.

"Mr barman," he said in voice of deep regret. "I do believe I am out of ale."

"Another pint, Master Merlin?" The short balding barman reached for a mug.

Merlin fixed him with a very serious look. "Make it _two_."

He added his now empty tankard to the growing pile in the middle of his table reached with both hands for the next drink.

"Is there anythin' else I can get yer, sir?"

_Sir._ Six months and Merlin still hadn't got used to that. _Siiirrrrr_…

Merlin noticed the barman had a funny little nick in his left ear. Merlin narrowed his eyes and held his own left ear warily.

"I'm quite fine at the moment, thank you very much." Picking up the full tankard with his free hand, he started deep into its depths.

Even in his alcohol-blurred state, Merlin could remember why he was here. He took a swig of the ale. That meant he hadn't had enough to drink.

Arthur had let him go without comment this afternoon when he'd sidled out of the room muttering about a quick drink. Gwen and Morgana had pursed their lips in Arthur's direction at this.

Merlin took another morose gulp from his mug. He didn't have a problem with parties. It was all Arthur's fault, and his strange problem with grey hairs.

And the ale had only made his resolve not to hurt Arthur stronger.

So, no, there were to be no celebrations, thank you very much.

"Well, Mr barman. It certainly has been a most enjoyable evening," Merlin stood unsteadily to his feet and made a dangerous attempt at a bow. "Thank you for your good service, my friend." Pressing a few coins into the barman's palm, he wrung his hand and clapped him on the shoulder. Or on his head. He wasn't too sure.

Merlin walked carefully to the door, and into the dark street. Tomorrow he would be forty-one. He decided to see if he could count forty-one stars in the sky. They were very pretty, after all.

Merlin wondered if Arthur was looking at the stars.

He took the next left- or was it right?- back up to the castle. Tripping slightly, Merlin began to wonder why there were trees beginning to line the path. How exactly he hadn't reached the drawbridge yet.

Merlin stopped and looked around himself with interest. The castle had changed quite a bit since that afternoon- it seemed as if Gwen had decided to redecorate. About time too, Merlin thought. And the greenery really did bring a lot to the… the… he really was very tired. Maybe now would be a good time to sleep. The stars looked pretty through the leaves above him. The slight rustling was strangely soothing. The hell! It was his birthday tomorrow. If he wanted to sleep on the floor he would.

Just before he closed his eyes, the surrounding trees _sighed_.

"…Wake him up?"

"Did you _see_ him last night? He's head is going to be-"

"Shut up, Arthur." A hundred horses had run over his head. It felt like his brain was smacking the sides of his skull as a gentle hand shook his shoulder. "Merlin? Merlin?"

He moaned. "Go away."

A low chuckle, and something hard and leafy hit his face. "Oh, sorry-"

Merlin pulled his eyes open to a crack. There was horribly bright sunlight jabbing his pupils and he seemed to be lying- in a tree.

Forcing his eyes properly open, Merlin's neck cricked as he twisted it around to take in his surroundings.

Gwen's kind dear face was hovering over his, eyes lined with concern. Arthur was standing a bit behind her, wearing an expression somewhere between amusement, resignation and irritation- little Ygraine was clinging to his hand, her big brown eyes looking everywhere at once, and her fat little hand twisting the velvet of her blue cloak. She pointed over to the left, where Morgana seemed to be murmuring to a large oak. Its branches were doing an excellent job, he noticed, of shading him from the sun. A few shadows of guards shifted in the shadows of the distant trees.

The leaved cocoon of branches below him shuddered slightly. Holding a hand to his pounding head, and patting the brushwood gratefully with the other, Merlin stood up.

"My God, Gwen," he screwed up his eyes and peered, wincing, into her face.

She smiled. "Sleep well, then?"

"Like a log."

A chuckle. "Morgana?"

"Hello?" Morgana looked up from the roots of the oak.

"Do Merlin a favour."

"It's his own fault," Arthur interjected, rolling his eyes. He leaned down to Ygraine, armour chinking, and whispered conspiratorially, "He should not have stayed out so very late last night."

Morgana glided over- barefoot, her shoes swinging from her left hand- and touched her palm to Merlin's forehead. Her irises darkened fleetingly, storm clouds for just a moment.

"Instant cure for last nights memories."

"Well it's certainly better than Gaius' old drink," There was a moment of shared smiling- unlike Uther, the late Gaius had never been a forbidden subject of conversation. He was more a grace of a memory, whereas Uther's was something akin to climbing ivy. To everyone.

Merlin ran a hand through his hair. He stretched, about to reach out his hand for Ygraine's free one, as Arthur cleared his throat.

"We didn't come all the way down here just to wake you up," Merlin knew every curve in each of Arthur's expressions by heart; he watched the corner of his mouth crease his cheek perhaps a little too intently for company for a second.

"You didn't?"

Gwen squeezed her arms around his waist. "Happy birthday, Merlin."

He never shuddered at the thought of who else these arms had wrapped around any more.

He was grown man now after all.

"Honestly, I told you-"

"Look! We bought cake and everything," She continued.

"Oh Gwen, but-"

"Which _I_ baked." Morgana arched her eyebrows, daring him to refuse to try it now.

"But you know-"

"Merlin."

Arthur's voice cut through his babble. "I'm hungry."

That was all the consent needed.

"Well, in that case-"

"_Mern_!!" Despite the Arthur's remarks, Merlin still thought Ygraine's name for him was endearing. "I made you a present!"

"Thank you," he squinted at the picture she'd pressed upon him. There was a moment of Morgana's suppressed laughter hanging in the air, before two large circles on the side of the head made him exclaim, "It's _me_!"

There was laughter.

"Thank you very much your highness." She giggled at her favourite title, and Morgana took him by the hand to the centre of the clearing at sat him down, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder as she set about empting the basket in her hand.

Out came cakes, wine- Merlin laughed at that- a cold turkey, bread, jam, tarts, sausages, a set of plates- Merlin suddenly felt overwhelmed by a strange rush of affection for all of them. His heart, long suppressed, swelled and his youthful beam of a smile spread over his face.

Gwen beamed.

Long after the turkey lay bare and all that was left of the cake were crumbs, long after the guards in the trees had grown glazed and boringly bored, Morgana lay with her 2head in Merlin's lap, her gales of pealing laughter danced over the grass, infectious as Merlin's smile. Ygraine sat plaiting Morgana's hair into tendrils of night, giggling at her uncle Mern and daddy bantering easily over the remains of the picnic.

"So that's why you'll never speak in front of the Mercian's- this Rebecca refused you a dance?"

"You, my unmarried servant, can only imagine the humiliation. I was seventeen years old!"

"Your dignity is intact, my liege," Merlin raised his eyes to the warm sky. "You know a man told me at the market last week you can tell the future from the clouds?"

Arthur snorted. "The _clouds_?"

"Of course, it's a far more reliable method than asking me," Morgana said in mock-seriousness.

"Did this man show any of his cloud fortune, then?" Asked Gwen with interest, picking a grape from the near-bare bunch in the middle.

"Well, he charged me two groats, but I thought it sounded interesting, so-"

"Two groats?" Arthur shook his head. "You, my friend-" stopping, he placed his hands over his daughter's delicate ears. "Idiot."

"Dadd_ieeee_!" Ygraine had just pulled at her father's hands, pouting in a spitting image-

"Who goes there?"

The guards awoke like waxworks, every ear in the clearing sharpened and Morgana and Merlin leaping into identical poses.

"Guinevere-" the edge of love like his sword drawn from its scabbard cut his voice as Arthur stood before his wife and child.

_Wife _and_ child_.

"Peace! I mean no harm. Let me pass."

"A druid man, my Lord." Was there still a touch of contempt there, fifteen years on?

"My lord?" The wary guards followed a crush of flattened foliage under the hooves of a slight white horse padding into the clearing. "Forgive me- Arthur King of Albion?"

"That is I. Who asks?" defensive, formal. Merlin felt his magic coil, and Morgana's hiss.

A dark, slim man slid from the slim, white horse to the grassy floor. His cloak seemed almost to flow into the ground. It wrapped around his thin frame several times, concealing, Merlin felt, far too many secrets. "My name is Fianait. King Arthur, Queen Guinevere, Emrys… Lady Morgana." The intensity of his final greeting… scared Merlin. "You don't know me- I am a friend of Mordred."

Morgana's gasp.

Morgana's joyous gasp.

Gwen looked at Merlin- a look of shared worry that was not returned.

Merlin's world had stopped.

_Are you telling me that little boy is going to kill Arthur?_

_It seems that is up to you._

"Mordred? Well… do send him our greetings."

"Oh, how _is_ he?" Morgana was so eager.

"Fine, my lady, just fine. I must say, I am honoured to finally meet you."

"You have heard of me?"

"There are many tales of you among my people, my lady."

"Arthur-" Merlin had to stop this. It might be too late, but he had to stop it-

"Fianait, wasn't it? Tell Mordred he simply must visit us," there was a strange fervour to Morgana's excitement and to the way she wrung Fianait's hand with her own. "I have to see him!"

"Morgana, Mordred might be, you know, busy-" Oh smooth, Merlin. Subtle, he commended himself, fighting the blood pounding in his head and the urge to simply blast this Fianait with the roar of magic.

_Going to kill Arthur?_

_Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!_

"Not at all!" A smile. "Mordred will be delighted at the invitation, I assure you."

Morgana beamed round at them. Guinevere's frozen smile was just too tight to share Morgana's joy.

Arthur just looked amused.

The young man, his elfin face so satisfied, swung back onto his horse.

"I bid you goodbye. Your highness, Emrys, Lady Morgana."

And he went.

"Uncle Mern?"

There was no reply.

The sky boiled with clouds.

***

**Take the poll, if you haven't donw so!! :)  
Reviews are wonderful.**

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	12. Chapter 11

**Hello! :)**

**I hated myself for writing this chapter. But it had to be done... :(  
Lots of angst. Implicit, by not explicit Gwen/Lancelot. Evil!Morgana. And quite a lot of time passing. I really hope you get the impression of Mordred sort of infiltarating and intergrating himself into Camelot.**

**Oh- and speech like **_' this ' _**is that strange telepathic speaking Mordred used on the show in episode... 9?**

**Well, here we go. Read, review, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Consider it disclaimed.**

_**Eleven.**_

No matter how charmed, how perceptively perfect an existence, storms come. Fate grows tired of idle happiness- or at least, of stationary emotions.

She deals a new hand.

Their storm was coming, and the time between that fateful birthday and _his_ coming- that boy, that once sweet, dear boy- was simply the doldrums between and before endings. The end.

So Merlin waited; for people to snap and fall one way or the other in the taking of sides that had, for so long, been mercifully avoided. It was like love: could it, he wondered, ever stay resolutely silent, a burning ghost, or would either denial or acceptance have to come?

The clear, forever-blue eyes of this boy- this man- would tell. They would tell all. Everything.

Oh, everything.

***

"Oh, Morgana, sit _still_!"

It was late. Little Ygraine had been carried to bed, protesting shrilling, by her ever-patient nurse. Two guards stood silently stationed by the double doors at the end of the hall and all had been thoughtfully quiet, besides Morgana's constant fidgeting and Merlin's sudden exclamation.

Three pairs of curious eyes blinked at him from around the table.

It was unlike him to be so sharp. That was Arthur's job.

"Sorry…" he muttered, ears reddening.

"Merlin, what's the matter?" asked Gwen quietly from next to him. She lightly touched his hand. He flinched- _pulled_- away from her damned lucky touch. He thought not of where those hands had been.

"Nothing. I'm just… nothing."

She pursed her lips and lingered her gaze on his face. He looked down and gave a slight nod.

"He should be here by now!" Morgana smoothed her russet gown, bronzed by the flickering firelight. "You don't suppose he's been hurt?" Cracking, her voice flinched away from the idea.

"Of course not," Arthur assured her, sighing. "He's more probably delayed by the weather." Indeed, the rain lashing the windows did sound vicious.

Morgana was fiddling with her left earring as the double doors at the end of the hall eased open. Two figures- one uncertain, disbelieving; one confidant, delighted- walked in and stood for a moment. Then all four of the seated friends rose and began to speak at once.

"Oh, you're finally here! After… you've grown so-"

"What- you've come back."

"Oh! I don't believe- oh."

And then, from Merlin: "Mordred…. _Lancelot_."

Everyone fell quiet; apologetic- Merlin just fell quiet.

"Lancelot! This is… unexpected." Arthur was smiling though, his arms sort of half raised in welcome disbelief.

"Sire. If you'll excuse my unannounced return- I would have sent word, but I happened to meet this man, who I believe is a friend? He said he was just on his way to visit and I- I decided to return." He bowed very low. "I understand if I am not welcome, but-" His eyes grew very wide as his eyes roamed from the king and took in the rest of the assembled company. They lingered on Guinevere. "My Lady!"

They heard the swish of her hem as she curtsied- an odd gesture- and her fine gown glittered in the firelight, each bead reflecting the tiny flames.

"Lancelot."

"Oh, sit down!" Morgana seemed to be speaking mainly to the so far silent shadowed Mordred, though they all overlooked this. Arthur nodded once to Lancelot, who smiled briefly and came to the table, hesitated, and chose his seat next to Merlin. Mordred's eyes swept silently over the Lady Morgana. He inclined his head in a slight bow to Arthur, and simply gazed for a second into Merlin's eyes.

' _Emrys. ' _The word resonated in Merlin's head.

' _Mordred. '_

After nodding to a servant standing dutifully at the edge of the hall, smaller doors along the walls opened, and modest servants carried in trays of food, which Arthur dug into immediately.

Conversation, started mainly by Morgana, began to bubble.

"Mordred! It's… I'm so glad to see you. And that you're well. I never thought I'd lay eyes on you again!" Morgana laughed. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you." A smile. "I'm glad _you_ remember _me_. I see you've discovered your magic. And Emrys too, of course." Again his eyes flickered across the table to him.

' _You taught her? '_

' _Yes. '_

Disconcerted by the memory of a dragon's word, Merlin turned to Lancelot. He saw from the corner of his eye Morgana and Mordred becoming more animated.

"Lance. You came back."

"I did. It's been a while."

"More than a while, I think."

They both grinned, sharing memories. Lancelot took the goblet before him in worn hands and leant forwards.

"My lady Gwen."

Gwen's skin almost seemed to glow as he addressed her. "Sir Lancelot?"

"Best not push my luck yet."

"He'll restore you're knighthood. I know it."

"I can live in hope," he took a small sip of wine, as did Gwen. "You look beautiful."

And _that_ had to stop _right there_. Merlin cleared his throat rather loudly.

"Horrible weather, isn't it?"

"Erm, yes. Awful." Lancelot blinked quickly and turned his attention once more to Gwen.

"It's wonderful to see you again."

"And you."

"I'm still indebted to you for stitching that tunic for me. I never forgot you."

Merlin made an unnecessary amount of plate clattering as he cut his chicken.

"Bet you're surprised to see Gwen at this table, right Lancelot?"

Lancelot blinked again, breaking his intense eye contact with Guinevere.

"I…"

"Yes, dining with royalty… well, you are royalty now, eh Gwen?" Merlin turned his face to her and glared very pointedly at Arthur, who was too engrossed in his food to notice.

"What?" Lancelot started. Merlin nearly felt bad for breaking it to him like that. Nearly.

"Yeah. Queen Guinevere. Princess Ygraine's asleep in her chambers at the moment, too."

The following silence between the three of them blushed.

Merlin determinedly hacked at his dinner.

Gwen and Lancelot did not speak for the rest of the evening.

-

"_Arthur_!" Morgana woke gasping for air and trembling beneath her bed sheets.

' _Morgana? '_

"Oh Mordred!" Tearlessly, she sobbed, and the door creaked open. Mordred slipped in. The bedsprings creaked slightly as he sat beside her and touched her shoulder.

"I know you dream. Do not worry."

"I see such terrible things," she shuddered. "And… it…"

"Go back to sleep. I promise you won't remember it in the morning." Tenderly, the dark haired youth touched her forehead. Catching her as she fell back to the pillows and her eyes rolled up into her head, he murmured, "And if you dream it again, you'll understand."

Dressed in a pale nightshirt and trousers, skin paled by the moonlight like an avenging angel, his eyes flickered and he left the room, nothing more than a shadow.

-

It had been a few weeks- Mordred, it seemed, was on an almost permanent invitation to stay in the room next door to Morgana. Lancelot was happily settled in a wing of the castle and attended the knight's training everyday.

Arthur was quite overjoyed to have him back as a centre pillar of the Knights. He joined the round table- one of Merlin's, if he was being modest, more brilliant ideas- in the seat beside Arthur.

A brief scuffle as Arthur called it, involving Prince Vortinel's army was won easily- Morgana insisted Mordred could assist her and Merlin in the fight, and after more than a little persuading, Arthur had agreed. Mordred quietly excelled. Morgana was sickeningly proud, and Arthur's trust in Mordred grew. Like poison ivy, Merlin thought.

"Arthur. Please listen."

"Merlin, honestly, I've told you, I don't care what that lizard said. The few times I've spoken to it, it seemed perfectly senile."

"That's just the way it is." He said impatiently, placing his hands on his hips.

"You look like a girl when you do that."

"Shut up, _your highness_. The point is, I know the thing's been talking to Morgana lately, and it _told_ me-"

"Mordred. Is. Fine. And anyway, Morgana's besotted. Leave him be. If he does prove to be a threat, I trust you to deal with him." Arthur placed a swift hand on Merlin's shoulder, and left him feeling no more comforted than he had been at the start of the conversation.

-

Mordred was crouched, motionless, by the locked door. His face was in shadow.

There were sounds from within.

And really, he thought, it just tied a pretty bow around his plans for that evening.

He could tell by the gasped names from within it was who he thought it was. He could also tell by the other sounds they were doing exactly what he'd thought they'd been doing for the past two months. Really, how weak of them. Only being able to last one month before losing control of their careful restraint.

His own presence, he knew, would be missed only by Morgana and Emrys, the former of which he had reassured beforehand that he would be back soon, and the latter no one would take any notice of anyway. Mordred's three months of staying in the castle had taught the court that Emrys was simply… jealous. What a perfect cover story for his worry.

An extremely loud cry from beyond the door almost had Mordred flinching away.

The gasp from the opposite end of the corridor did.

Merlin was frozen there. His mask of horror and disgust was slowly turning to unmasked fury- no doubt at the betrayal of his precious Arthur.

' _Yes Emrys. Did you even ever doubt it? '_

' _NO! '_

And Merlin was gone, in a roar of rage.

-

His fury bubbled under a surface of calm that evening at the feast.

Merlin had made sure Gwen- _Guinevere_, his sweet _Gwen_ would never do this- and Lancelot were sat as far as possible away from each other. He knew they knew he knew by the looks of loathing he shot at both of them.

Treacherous snakes.

And Mordred- there was nothing he could do as he was sat beside Morgana, no doubt polluting her mind with his poison. Merlin wondered desperately if there was anything, any chance that she was not yet wholly gone.

He doubted it.

Arthur rose from his seat, suddenly grabbing Merlin's attention.

"Evening. In actual fact, I've known Mordred for many, many years. I do not regret, even for a second, saving this man's life. We cannot regret saving any innocent man's life. He wishes to say a few words tonight, so, Mordred?"

Can blood run cold? Truly cold, ice in ones veins?

Merlin would have to say it could.

"Thank you." Mordred had stood. His dark green, almost black robes were in odd contrast with so much Pendragon red and gold. "Yes. Yes, I have many important things to say tonight." The pause stopped Merlin's heart for a second. "There are so many important things in life: love, justice… truth. And it is truth I want to speak about. Queen Guinevere," His pale hand clasped the metal goblet in a toast. "Sweet Guinevere. And Sir Lancelot."

' _Don't do this. '_

A smile was the only answer he got.

"Friends. For ever such a long time. You have been truthful with one another: as we should be with friends- with _all_ our friends. King Arthur," His eyes flicked over to the king's great throne, and stayed there, two chips of jagged ice. "Your highness, have you ever wondered at your court magician's loyalty? So very loyal. And never a real complaint, nor a bid for his own power… still _no wife_, either. Are you very sure you understand his motives?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying sire, that from my careful observation, Master Merlin may not be as pure as he seems-"

"Get out."

" Just why, for instance, has he not informed you that your wife has been most overly familiar with your favourite knight for two months?"

A collective gasp. Then silence. White faced, Arthur rose.

"You- you- get out of my court. Get out. OUT!"

And Morgana hadn't moved.

"GET OUT!!"

"Don't lay a finger on him." A storm rose from Morgana's seat. Her dark hair boiled around her face, as dark as the flash of her eyes as the four guards grabbing at Mordred flew back against the walls with a sickening crack.

"Get him out of my castle. OUT of my KINGDOM!"

"_NO!_" Her shriek cracked the walls. "The truth hurts, Arthur Pendragon, and Mordred has told me things. Just how much it _does._" A thousand knives tore through her words and hurtled at Arthur.

Merlin threw his hand out, and as he destroyed every would-be murder weapon and threw his curses at the two creatures down the table, he realised he could not tell them apart.

The body of what was Morgana twisted into Mordred's dark arms and mortal smile, and in a crash of dark fire, they were gone.

All that was left were the torn eyes of the Queen, King, his favourite fighter, and the magician.

Every silence ripped apart for all of Camelot to see.

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**I hate being pushy about reviews, but I have 33 and it would be lovely to get some more! (Or is that greedy ? :\ )  
Just press that green button and type in even a word. Thank you ^_^**

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	13. Chapter 12

**I am so so sorry.**

**There is so much angst in this chapter, it's unbelievable. Oh dear :( Tell Merlin I'm sorry ! *cries*  
But you know, it had to happen.  
****This is the penultimate chapter. And it's a cliff hanger, because I'm slightly evil, really. That's right guys, the end is coming. I may do an epilogue, depending on how sad I am at the end, and on what you guys say (in your _reviews_ *cough cough*)  
****  
****Thanks, again, to everyone who reviewed, has this on alert and had even fav'd. You mean the world, and I'm so glad you stuck with this story till now. xxDib-Dabxx, you're a freakin star ^_^ *gives love in the form of cookies***

**disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. The BBC didn't think my ideas were sutible for prime-time telly.**

**A.n..- Oh! And on Arthur's whole snarling face- we all know he'd be pouting, really, but in the context of the story, I decided that might kill the atmosphere a bit...**

**Read, review, enjoy!!**

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_**Twelve.**_

In the end of ends, it was a question of self: self_ish_ness or self_less_ness. It was not until that day (that day of burning and friends falling into the oblivion that he'd welcomed not so long ago) that Merlin felt he truly understood which was the way Arthur always fell. The very depths of his endless heart.

There are so many words to hold and spin. So many to say and speak and sing. So few to truly put names to the horror of the final call. The knock on eternity's door. Loved ones: their screams, becoming husks of carrion and nothing more. And there was fear- tangible, like hung out sobs, and tasting so bitter, love was acidic.

But Merlin would have it no other way.

He would stand nowhere but beside their King, even as death began to become with a druid boy's smile.

***

Camelot sprawled beneath them. All life and houses and people and money- and knowledge.

Every kind of knowledge.

There had been fewer mutterings about Mordred's suggestions concerning Merlin than there had been of the treason of Lancelot and Guinevere: for this, Merlin silently breathed sighs of relief. God knows he couldn't imagine living in confirmed rejection.

His relief wasn't complete, however.

Guinevere's sobs as she and her lover were clad in irons were still haunting Arthur's ears. Merlin himself had chosen not to listen.

The slightly edged wind blew Arthur's hair. His back was to Merlin, and his hands were clenched in defeat on the ramparts.

"Merlin," he struggled out. "The laws laid down by my- my father, state all traitors should be dealt with by a pyre. I think I've broken quite enough of my father's laws, don't you think?" He laughed humourlessly.

"That's your call." Merlin's gaze intensified on the back Arthur's head. He couldn't let himself bring himself to reach out a hand to stroke every pain away.

"The people are baying for an execution!" The greying blonde head bowed, the words choked in agony.  
"My daughter. My Ygraine. She can't see her mother die. She can't!" A pause. "And nor can I."

Merlin walked in three paces to stand beside Arthur. He did not look at him. He would not want it. Eyes on the horizon, he said, "What do you want me to do?"

A brief moment of Arthur's hand over Merlin's. Merlin's furiously nonchalant heart tore from his chest. On the wings of a bitter impulse.

"I've thought it though," A stiffened shoulder. "Mordred isn't gone, is he?"

"Ah… no. No, I don't think so." Stupid dragon, Merlin cursed.

"He's coming back. And I need you- get Lancelot's horse from the stables tonight. Break open the cells. Get- get Lancelot and Guinevere away from here. Give them… give them Ygraine."

A sheet of silence. Merlin seemed to be staring across miles to Arthur. "What?"

"Please. They must be safe. Away from here."

The day was cold. Merlin tightened his lips.

"I will, sire."

An eleventh hour chime.

"I love you. I love you so much." There was a desperate man crouched before his six-year-old daughter, so fragile, so porcelain, encircled in his desperate arms.

"Daddy, I don' understand," Her eyes, her great brown eyes, were wide and confused, an eternity of questions swimming in the slight tears. The Pendragon tenacity kicked into her voice. "I don't want to go!"

"Please. You must. Your mother- loves Lancelot very much," Innocent bitterness. "He'll keep you _so_ safe. Both of you."

The single candle burnished her little blue cloak bronze, and the clock struck again. Arthur looked down, hiding his breaking face from her. He touched the bracelet that had been her fifth birthday present from him.

"You won't forget me, will you daddy?"

"Oh," He pulled her into his arms once more. It looked as if he would never let her go. "Never. I'm more worried about you forgetting me!" Kissing her curls, he said, "No tears. You promised."

"I love you daddy."

Merlin came from the shadows and took the little hand as the clock struck again. Time could never be stopped. Simply delayed.

Silently, they fled down the corridor.

-

The night cloaked Merlin's stealthy fingers sliding back each lock and bolt, breaking each of the chains. The darkness blessed him with a shadowed face, so no hints of hate could crack through to the filthy traitor's eyes.

Briefly silenced guards and prisoners slept on unaware, in the shafts of moonlight striping the four running figures. Merlin had said only one thing so far:

"For Arthur."

Once the tree's branches fragmented the sky, all footsteps stopped. Three of the four- the strongly built man, the woman and the child- swung onto Lancelot's horse.

"Just tell me one thing," Merlin said quietly. "Why?"

Guinevere's eyes- his friend _Gwen_ was _dead_- beseeched him. "I don't know."

"He loves you," It was spat. "This is because he _still_ loves you."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." He looked only at Ygraine without hate. "I'll miss you, you know."

"Love you, uncle Mern."

And they were swallowed by the folds of the night.

-

Of course, the story was Lancelot had escaped, taking Guinevere and Ygraine with him into the night. In secret.

Arthur was broken enough for the masses to believe it.

But rumours move on, and soon enough, they were drowned out by battle cries. The hills of Camlen grew stained and broken by the feet of so many fighters fighting the abominations at the command of the two dark figures holding hands at the crest of the hill.

That was Arthur's vision from the head of the proud lines of horses and metal and red and gold cloth. Fierce, prepared, he clapped Merlin on the shoulder.

A slight gesture of his hand and the men surged forward, the illusion of silence broken like a promise.

The harsher clash on clash on clash of steel and magic was terrifying. Every time Merlin threw away an attacker's life it tore at him- but not too much. That side of his love scared him: just what he would do. Arthur and Merlin fought beside one another- carving paths of annihilation through the enemies - _people_, with lives and families (but no, Merlin could not think of that. He was saving Arthur. And that was that.)- littered the ground around them like a swamp. Around them the air was made of screams.

"Merlin-" Arthur cleft a man asunder just before his sword caressed Merlin's neck. Arthur's face was grime coated and streaked with the angry red of other's blood, twisted into a snarl of battle.

"Thanks-" burning sparks flew from Merlin's outstretched fingers.

"You owe me. Again." Another slash of his sword sent yet more departed souls to the sky to join the smoke and cries echoing across the-

And that's when they saw her.

She was a burning goddess, eyes glowing purple and destroying all she could see. Black hair lacerating the reddening sky with it's flying locks, and her pale hands curled into claws at her sides. She strode over the field of bodies as if they were rose petals. Merlin could hear the crackle of power in her.

It wasn't Morgana. Not any more. That was just a title.

"Morgana!" The fighting never ceased. "Please. Please." Merlin looked across the carnage. "It doesn't have to end like this."

"Yes. Yes it does, Emrys." Like dark mist of spiders' webs, fear was thrown from her outstretched hand at them.

Merlin blocked it, feeling only the slight edges of true, real terror whip around his shield-

He twisted, turned and sent fire her way, which she tossed aside with a swipe of her hands, countering with pain, shot over like an arrow of light- it hit Merlin, right in heart, and he screamed, conjuring it from him with clawed hands and hurtling it back at her. She swirled into nothing and reappeared to his left in a storm of whirling hair, dark eyes flashing as Merlin slashed his hand like a dagger and sent bright fierce light over her face, leaving marks- she recoiled, hunched- and Merlin stopped. His friend, Morgana, was curled over, screaming in agony and he couldn't, he couldn't-

She straightened, springing like a cat, and hurled at him a ball of silver daggers, carrying sorrow on their tips: they became tears at Merlin's hand, raining on him- they boiled and he closed his eyes, sending them with a vicious curse right back at her. Eyes clenched shut, distorting his whole face with lines, her final echo of a scream told him it was done.

He'd murdered his once-friend.

"Merlin, _Mordred_! He's there!"

Merlin turned, almost angry with exasperation. He didn't get any breaks, did he?

Mordred was there, standing just before them. His mortal smile fixed, a hard, whitening line, eyes glowing with dark fire as he saw the remains of Morgana behind them. Time seemed to freeze.

Quiet calmly, he said, "You killed her."

"You knew we would."

"As did she. She saw it. It her dreams."

Arthur's twist of a face roared. "You took her from us!"

Mordred's eyes- just chips of chiselled ice- fixed on him. "That was her destiny."

"Don't give us that meant-to-be-"

Merlin cut across him, hatred for this man, this _boy_ who had just torn up their lives lancing his voice. "So did she see what was to happen next?"

Mordred smiled. "Yes. Oh yes, she did."

Time started again, and the hoarse screams of battle assaulted their ears once more.

And Mordred's hand was a knife that sliced through the air and the body of the king before anyone could even blink.


	14. Chapter 13

**Hello!**

**It's late, it's late, and I AM sorry. *grovels* I have got excuses: involving lightning strikes, dismantled computers, sleepovers moral dilemmas and the like... but here it is! The end. **

**I _will_ post an epilouge soon. A happy one. But this is the final _chapter_- much edited, and madening to get right!!  
And _Geowine_- a departed friend, a friend of old or former times. Thank you old english translator ;)**

**Thank you, every single loyal and disloyal reader who's enjoyed and taken the timne to read and fav and review and subscribe. You've kept the story going to the bitter *cries* end.  
And of course, thank you to my beuatiful boy who inspired the story from the start, fueled every idyllic and lonely moment of it. You'll never ever read a word of this, but it was all for you. Thank you.**

**Even if you've never left me a review before, give me one final one.**

**much love  
barefootxxx**

_**Thirteen.**_

Sometimes it's a heightened emotion, another previously unexplored gear that tears us apart and feeds us to the wolves: Merlin could not have known he was capable of this much fear.

As shattered forms were shattering on the scorch of ground, Merlin's ancient eyes burned gold again and again, having for so long been weary saviours, fixing and patching every crack in _His_ life. And now the molten magic failed him.

So many parts of him were dying.

And there was no time to cling to himself, hold his form together, because all and every time for nonchalant, masked, lonely reflection was over- for the blood was there, now, and immediately soaking his trembling form.

Poisoning his hope.

***

"_NO!!!!!_" Merlin's scream broke the sky and brought every knife of lightning to the ground in a split second. Every single fighter fell to the ground, burning with Mordred in a momentary blaze.

They died.

Merlin fell to his knees, catching Arthur in his twisted arms.

Arthur's face was a grimace of pain.

"Arthur- Arthur!"

Blood saturated his hands. Scarlet guilt.

Arthur's mouth started to speak- a choking action.

"No, don't talk. You don't need to. You're not going to die," How many times, to how many souls, had he made that empty promise? "You can't. Arthur you CAN'T!"

All the screams had been silenced with Merlin's moment of rage: there was nothing left on the broken waves of mud but the echo of Merlin's denial, and the massacre of bodies strewn about like afterthoughts.

"Merlin," The once-boy Merlin had first humiliated in a mace fight all those years ago managed a ghost of a smile. Grime and blood streaked his face like the tears he wouldn't let come. Merlin made no attempt to restrain his own. "Merlin."

"No, no, this won't happen, I won't let it, _heales, HEALES_!"

"Mordred will have covered his bases. You know that." Every word seemed to exhaust him- the soaking blood taking his strength with it.

"_NO_!" Sobs tore through Merlin's wiry from. He screamed: it hacked the sky in two.

"Don't cry."

Merlin choked a humourless laugh. "Don't die. What am I supposed to do alone? I can't be alone, Arthur, I can't." He dared not close his eyes. Every second of looking was numbered. "You can't die. You can't. Please. Please don't leave me."

"Merlin," Merlin's heart splintered with every whisper. "Without me you'll- _Merlin_. Idiot."

"Prat." Merlin's arms cling to the scarlet form, as if holding it tight enough might stop the grey figures drifting from the horizon from taking it away. Terror and denial clutched his heart and lungs and brain. He looked at Arthur's face. A thousand unsaid things cloyed in his mouth like congealed blood. It had to be said. Amongst the pain and death and every other blackened emotion and the ever closer shadowy figures, he had to say it. Now, now-

"You can't die. I lo-"

The world burnt as the light left Arthur Pendragon's eyes.

"NO! NO, NO!! I love you, I love you! NO!" Eyes growing gold, they tore the rain from the broken clouds. Through screams and sobs he pressed his lips to the dead man's over and over- the figures arrived, misty arms trapping Merlin's torn form, his empty and burning heart, prising his fingers from the stained golden dragon on red-

Arthur's soul was pale against the ground. They took his hand and led him towards the horizon, their half-seen forms taking him like an old friend. The iron arms around Merlin released, but no magic or running legs let him reach them.

And then they were gone. To Avalon.

Merlin fell to his knees. He collapsed over the body.

The world began to burn.

-

The sun brightened the wind and the rustling of the leaves were hundreds of quiet voices welcoming him back: the solitary dark-haired figure, head bowed and shoulders curved.

Arthur, a state funeral: been and gone. Speeches and tears and a great farewell. And black. So much black.

Then the nobles and lords had begun to clash over the throne: selfish and low foul play – and all that Arthur had built pushed to one side- behind.

For some.

Merlin bent down. He laid the orange rose at the foot of the grave, brushing away the last few dead petals of the last flower still clinging to the stone. They were caught on the wind, and almost reminded him of the snow from all those years ago. Or of the confetti, the rain, the falling leaves.

There were no tears left anymore.

Merlin remembered- that laugh, those jokes, those little things only he knew. He remembered the thunder, and the loss of words.

He knew the right word now.

"Géowine." Whispered.

He had no desire to stay and witness the fall of Camelot. He knew perfectly well the city and the great castle walls had died with Arthur.

It was time.

Merlin looked one last long look at the clear forever blue of the sky. A cloud drifted over it, a soft suggestion of time progressing. He had to go. Now.

A laugh, a superior smile.

A crease between confused eyebrows.

Footfalls, so familiar, so dear.

Sunlight in golden hair.

Blue, blue eyes made of sky.

And forever.

Merlin, kneeling, touched the grave's inscription with worn fingers:

_Hic iace artorius rex quandom rexque futurus._

Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.

Merlin closed his eyes and became nothing, disintegrating and drifting, broken, fragmented: a myriad parts lost in the song of the wind.

And there was silence.

_Fin.__

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	15. Epilogue

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Cripes.  
After much pondering and wasted maths lessons, I've finally finished the epilogue. And am happy with it! I really hope you all are too.  
This truely is the end of the story! Once and Future King, converses, Brighton... please leave me a review just to say whether you liked it or not!

**Speaking of reviews: every single one of you has been fantastic. I know I say this like, every update, but really, you are wonderful. You've keep me writing, and I'm really, really sorry for making the last chapter such a sad ending! :( It's been... wow :)**

**No angst, or innuendos, or heaviness, or... well, I hope not :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. Consider it disclaimed.**

**Read, review, enjoy.**

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Epilogue.

A train fled past at innumerable miles per hour, rustling everything from the air to the collar of a coat wrapped around a dark-haired man.

It was strange how the bags beneath the man's eyes seemed to triple his middle-aged years.

The last echoes of the train faded, and quiet fell over the station again. A few people coughed, a businessman shook his paper, but at this late hour, there were very few commuters still around.

The man in the coat was hunched around himself- the night was bitter- and sat on the hard painted metal of one of the platform benches. He was alone. His dark hair was longer than it had been- but still two chilly ears were visible poking through it. The edges of him- when the wind blew- looked to be blurred, as if the breeze was exchanging wisps of particles with him

But of course, that was nonsense. As if wind could do any such thing to a man of flesh and blood.

Peering curiously from around his paper, the businessman sneakily observed the man. He had an odd air to him.

Quite suddenly, two blue blue eyes turned to look straight at him. They fixed him with a stare that held for just a second, before the businessman cleared his throat and turned back to the headlines. His train would be here soon, carrying him on in his life and away from eyes of the dark man across the platform that raised the hairs on his arms.

Across the track, the man sighed. It used to be that people did not flinch if he looked at them. It felt to him that as the years went on, they did more and more. Maybe it was the changing times.

But maybe not.

Shivering again, the man wrapped his arms tighter around himself. He scuffed the tips of his converses against the tarmac of the platform.

Stares were not the only thing that had changed over time. The train service, he would have sworn, got slower every time he used it.

He remembered the first time he'd used a train. He'd always been enthusiastic to try anything new: a steam powered metal snake had seemed, and was, a shiny and incredible invention. The laughter, God, he remembered the delighted laughter from the other passengers and himself as the countryside went by, and the sky looking like it was the one chugging past, not them…

You couldn't really see the sky too well anymore. There were some places, far from here, where he could still count the stars and trace the Milky Way- as it was called now- with an outstretched finger. His own, lonely outstretched finger.

The man glanced up at the sky above him. It was still deep dark blue, and films of clouds drifted over it like eyelids, but no, there were but a few spots of light peeking through: tiny tears in the dark.

Sighing, the man leaned forwards, checking both directions of the track for approaching trains. There were none.

The only thing breaking the stillness was the very faint sound of music coming from the headphones of a man sitting a few benches down.

The wind curled and stretched around the platforms again, and a monosyllabic voice came through hidden speakers; "Please remain behind the yellow lines, the 23:24 train is now approaching. Please remain behind the yellow lines." The voice cracked off and the dark man stood, yawning slightly. The businessman and the man with headphones also did, the latter picking up a long dark case from the ground beside him.

The 23:24 hissed to a halt and the doors slid open with a breathy whoosh. Briskly, the businessman, newspaper folded under arm, stepped through them, and the headphoned man went to do the same. His foot just caught the edge of the train.

"Oh! Careful," Said the dark young man, grabbing the man's shoulder and steadying him, catching the black case as it slipped from the man's grasp. It was a saxophone case. They both smiled, the dark man flashing a momentary grin- which faded.

A moment, or perhaps an hour, or maybe several frozen days, passed in which memories passed like broken-dam-rivers, stopped them both in their tracks.

"Merlin?"

That one uncertain word brought every missing star back into the sky.

"Arthur."

Together, they stepped back off the train. Neither spared a look for the impatient businessman who jabbed the 'close doors' button. The many wheels carried all people away until the swaying carriages faded into the distance.

The man named Arthur took out his headphones.

"Nice to see you." A ridiculously inadequate statement for every second in between.

"And you," A pause. "I missed you."

The space between them was crossed, and a brief but solid man-hug ensued.

"So!" Smiled Arthur, breaking the embrace, "Where are you these days?"

"Oh, you know," Merlin replied, rubbing his eyes quickly. "Round and about. I'm living in Brighton at the moment. But where are you? What are you doing?"

At this, Arthur laughed. How much Merlin had missed that laugh. The way it reverberated through his chest, humming in his heart, was indescribable. "Renting. Near Portsmouth, at the moment. I play saxophone". He waved a large airy hand at the black case Merlin had saved. "Just about, you know. Nothing major."

Merlin breathed a kind of half laugh of joyful shock and disbelief. He closed his eyes. He shook his head slightly. "Wow. I have to see you play sometime," Merlin's blue eyes fixed the ground with an intense stare. "How… how long have you been here?"

There wasn't any real need to ask where.

"Thirty-six years."

"Thirty-six?" Merlin pondered this for a moment. "I'll have to lose a few years then."

The blue eyes- strangely like pools of perfect rippled water- Merlin had known from memories for so many years creased with amusement.

"After a thousand years in Avalon, age isn't really a big deal."

"Avalon…" Merlin repeated the word with a strange metallic taste on his tongue. "Have fun there?"

"Define fun."

Merlin's mouth twitched. "Really, how was it?"

"Well… of course, the weather is ridiculous. Serene. I ask you, how can you ride a horse in constantly serene weather? Sometimes dull without you there to be an idiot…"

Merlin let that one pass.

"…and the pastimes are… odd. Have you ever heard of 'Tai Chi'?"

"No way."

"Fairies are flexible. Anyway, I'm a master."

"Of course you are," Merlin's eyes twinkled like the invisible stars sprawled above them. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

"But Merlin! The _women_! Surrounded all day by these ethereal _babes_, God, you should've been there…"

Arthur's new tranquil eyes grew preoccupied with a typical Arthur expression. It was so like him all those years ago, Merlin nearly cried. Instead, he gave him a look and placed his hand on the man's cheek. Whether the whim was the equivalent of pinching yourself in a dream or just wishful recollections brimming over his heart, he wasn't sure.

"I only wish."

Merlin knew the world didn't really stand still. It's just not the way of the world, to stop for someone to hold a moment. But he was so scared the next flashing windows of a train would pass and leave nothing of this man behind and he'd awake in bright Brighton sunlight, cursing repressed dreams and once-upon-a-times he should have grown out of.  
Hundreds of years ago.

But the world kept turning, and Arthur said, "Come on. There's a Brighton train leaving in five minutes from platform three. I want to see what kind of squalor you live in now. My landlord won't mind my absence for a few days, I'm sure."

"A few days?"

"That remains to be seen. I'm a busy man, you know Merlin. Honestly, there's only so much Arthur to go around."

Merlin gave him a light shove as they started towards the walkway that would carry them to platform three.

"Prat."

Arthur gave a retaliatory push on the shoulder: Merlin stumbled.

"Idiot." He muttered as he steadied him.

They held that for a moment- a hand on each other's shoulder.

Then the train was heard hissing to a stop, and they ran, laughing, up the stairs.

Merlin smiled.

* * *

**Interpret your own happily-ever-after. x**


End file.
